What Pretty Petals You Have
by Killpurakat
Summary: Random Fearsome Five ficlet. Bushroot unwittingly instigates a laugh riot when one of his flowers points out something interesting about Negaduck and Darkwing.


Author's Note:

Okay, see, this is what happens when I watch too much of something. I get hit with insane ideas for fanfics. Luckily, they usually go in one ear and fall right out of the other. This one, however, stuck. And then snowballed.

I'm going to blame icequeenkitty and her excellent DW fics, because without them, I don't think this would have stuck at all. It's her fault, I tells ya!

Disclaimer: Yeah, right? You think I own Darkwing and his world? Nope, belongs to the Disney peoples, along with tons of other great stuff. Though they could put more Darkwing in the Magic Kingdoms (seriously, does he ever go out walking among the crowds? I couldn't find him when I was there).

* * *

It happened because of a flower.

Well, really, it could be blamed on Bushroot, since he had brought the flower inside to watch TV. Because it was too hot outside and drying up the soil and…

The rest of the Fearsome Five thought it best not to consider why Bushroot was fixating on the little rose. They thought he had learned his lesson with the potato. But, well, a plant-duck hybrid didn't have a whole lot of dating opportunities open to him in the world of animals.

Not that a water dog or electric rat had many either. Especially when memories from days of old encroached on their new forms and abilities.

And an insane toy-maker attracted a very odd, and preferably avoidable, crowd of women (and even more disturbing men) that actually made even Negaduck cringe in awed disgust.

Quackerjack, demented when it came to normal playthings for kids, had spent an entire weekend hiding under his bed after overhearing two adults talking about their own "toys." His housemates had heard him sobbing about how "wrong" people were to the little Banana-Head doll that ended up under the bed with him.

Regardless of how "wrong" it probably was for a grown duck to be hiding under the bed with a Banana-Head doll in the first place.

Thus there was a mutual, unspoken agreement not to judge each other on the issue of women, or whatever they were attracted to. Which resulted in a few odd occurrences, such as the "light bulb" incident, or the thing with the ice cubes or even the week where sudden pollen clouds appeared randomly around the house and Bushroot kept dashing out of rooms, his green and lilac head tinged dark maroon in embarrassment.

A moving flower was downright average compared to these standards.

It started when Bushroot dragged the potted plant inside and set it down in front of the television. Obviously, it wasn't a run-of-the-mill flower because it moved to "watch" Bushroot as he arranged the pot just so. Its leaves curled and uncurled and its baby pink petals waved about as it settled.

Also, Bushroot talked to it. Or rather cooed. "Yes, Prose, there's not much sunlight in here, but there's too much outside. Just stay in here for a little while, so you can have a drink, and then I'll take you back out."

Liquidator, who was lounging about in the tub near the TV, glared once in warning at the pair of plants. He snorted and went back to watching the news when it was clear Bushroot didn't care that the liquid mutt was nearby.

It was hard to tell with Bushroot sometimes, but Liquidator recalled that one afternoon, when he had innocently been relaxing in a bowl, and the plant-duck decided he was thirsty and stepped into the bowl.

Needless to say, now four out of the Fearsome Five always got their water from the _tap_ fresh each time they wanted a drink, thank-you-very-much.

That was the only rocky bump between the Liquidator and Bushroot, though.

For a plant and a puddle of water, the two super villains got along well enough. Better than the amped maniac and hydro pup, at any rate, although that certainly wasn't a shocking revelation.

The Liquidator continued to relax in his tub. The heat didn't bother him one drop, a fact he liked to rub in his teammates' faces.

Quackerjack stomped in just as the anchorman announced another scorcher tomorrow. The clown sat down with a huff, sweat visible on his beak. Bushroot was still doting on the rose.

"Well, Prose, that's a television. It gives us reports of what's happening in town."

The clown glanced at Bushroot. "Prose?"

Bushroot nodded in Quackerjack's general direction. "Yes. Pink rose. Prose. It makes sense. And she's very lyrical too!" He tickled a petal. "She comes up with the most interesting stuff."

The flower made some sort of odd movement, almost like an interpretative dance with its—her?—leaves, and Bushroot looked towards the TV, eyebrow facsimiles quirked.

The Liquidator took this opportunity to turn to Quackerjack. "The heat is here, if I heard correctly. I wouldn't know since my composition is continuously clear and cool."

"Go boil yourself, Liqui, I'm watching the news," Quackerjack huffed. He hated the heat more than any of the other Fearsome Five. Mostly because he refused to remove any of his outfit, and the layers of polyester refused to let any heat out.

It always gave him a short temper.

The announcer was now talking about the recent crime wave, or lack thereof. It was too hot for even the city's super villains to do much. The footage showed two ducks, one in red and yellow, the other in purple and pink, fighting and grappling.

"And while Darkwing once again saved the day, Negaduck escaped from the police escort and is at large. And coming up next in sports…"

Quackerjack huffed and turned down the volume (who really needed to know that the Canard Capers lost again). "Negi didn't even let us come along for that one! Lousy egomaniac spoilsport!" He turned the volume up slightly as the station cut to a commercial for whistle popsicles.

Megavolt ambled in, holding—well, it was something sparking, but nothing more was clear. With a screwdriver held haphazardly in his other hand and a manically focused look in his eyes, he looked like a perfect poster picture for what not to do with electricity.

With little regard for the clowned duck, the rat sat next to Quackerjack, who frowned a little, but affected to not be bothered by a possible explosive in his immediate vicinity. Honestly, the body heat was more annoying.

"I remember that day," Megavolt mused, twisting the screwdriver into a tangle of wires. "Home Stucco had a sale on those new low energy bulbs." He grinned. "I bought five cases! Great price."

"I like those kind," Liquidator spoke up, surprising both couch potatoes. "They don't make me evaporate as much."

"Can't make a decent toy oven with those," Quackerjack argued. "The cake batter would spoil before it cooked."

"Why not use a _real_ oven?" Liquidator asked, smirking.

"Because a toy is more fun!" Quackerjack whined. "Wait," he turned back to Megavolt. "You _bought_ the light bulbs?"

"Mm-hm," Megavolt muttered, sounded like a tiny engine as he gave a vicious twist on the screwdriver.

"Why didn't you steal them?" asked Quackerjack in complete surprise.

"You can't just steal stuff like that!" snapped Megavolt, gesturing with his hands and almost clobbering his couch-mate with the hunk of metal wires. "They're worth paying for! Which I did!"

"With what? Our leader locked up all the loot after we lost his Darkwing doll," Liquidator stated. Said doll had been stuffed with high-det, fairly impressive explosives.

Where the explosives had been stuffed lent new levels of disturbing to Negaduck's psyche. Not so disturbing—for Negaduck anyway—was the use of the weekly explosive toy: anger management. Almost a downright normal behavior for the midnight mallard.

Megavolt was huffing in indignation. "I'll have you know I left an equivalent amount of power cords I collected from old toasters at the store!"

Both Quackerjack and Liquidator exchanged glances, then turned back to the television. Neither was willing to endure the hour-long argument that would ensue from telling Megavolt that power cords were not equitable to family heirlooms of immense wealth, even if the toasters all had the title "uncle" or "aunt."

The news came back on, leading with a story about Darkwing. Liquidator muttered "show-off" as the footage flipped to show the caped crusader rapidly swimming through the bay.

The camera angle conveniently cut out Neptunia's shark chasing Darkwing, although nobody would have questioned that footage. Darkwing was known for having a runaway mouth.

Bushroot intently watched the television, the pink rose waving next to him. He nodded, either deep in thought (as scientists were prone to do) or in agreement with the rose. Possibly both.

He gave one final shake of his head, obviously deciding something, and turned to Quackerjack.

"Hey, Quackerjack, look at me."

"Huh?" Quackerjack did look. So did Megavolt and Liquidator.

Nobody spoke for a moment. Then Quackerjack snorted, blinked, and turned back to the TV.

"You don't wear eye-shadow, do you?"

A blurble that may have been a laugh escaped from the Liquidator. Megavolt started snickering through his teeth.

"What are you implying?" Quackerjack started, his voice fairly hostile and rising in octaves with each word.

"Prose asked why ducks have such pretty petals."

The silence following this statement lasted a good three minutes.

In fact, it might have been the oddest statement ever uttered in the hideout. At least in the top three.

And when the hideout housed a group as dynamic and diverse as the Fearsome Five, that was saying something.

Finally, Megavolt broke the silence. "Ducks have petals?"

Bushroot pointed to his eyes. "Eyelids." Then, to Quackerjack, "Yours are colored."

Quackerjack pulled a face between a pout and a frown and reached behind his back—somewhere—to pull out a mirror and examine himself. "That's just my awesome hat reflecting off my feathers." A slightly demented grin pulled at his beak as he batted his eyelashes. "You think it looks pretty?"

Bushroot remained unperturbed and pointed at the rose. "Prose asked. She thought Darkwing was pretty and Negaduck was handsome, except that she thought his petals looked dead."

Well, now that _was_ the oddest statement, hands down.

Until Liquidator chortled. "Hey, kids! Don't bother with mommy's make-up when you can use the Negaduck line of eyeliner cosmetics! Order now, supplies are limited! Free handgun with every purchase!"

The laughter that erupted was impossible to quench and only got worse when Negaduck stalked through the hideout a few hours later, sweating and in a bad mood.

"What the hell are you morons laughing about?"

The four quickly tried to stop, but couldn't help it when Negaduck grit his teeth and scrunched his eyes.

Prose was right, they did look almost too black to be a reflection of his mask.

* * *

The next day, Darkwing found four super villains sprawled in the park. The bruises on their bodies—well, those that could form bruises—suggested someone had beaten them up fairly thoroughly.

"Yeesh, what happened to you guys? Piss Negaduck off or what?"

At the sight of Darkwing blinking in surprise, the laughter started all over and lasted to the jail. And a substantial amount of snickering lasted beyond the jailbreak and for several weeks afterwards.

All because of a little pink rose.


End file.
